


All the Parts of You

by asocialfauxpas (fuzzytomato)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Deputy Derek Hale, Established Relationship, Human Derek Hale, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 06:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3718606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytomato/pseuds/asocialfauxpas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek wants all of Stiles - even the parts he's hesitant to share.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Parts of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [satoshiice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/satoshiice/gifts).



> This was written for a prompt from satoshiice. They wanted - Stiles in love with his dads deputy, Derek Hale!
> 
> Thanks to jsea for the beta

“Oh, hello, Deputy Hale,” Stiles said, walking out of his father’s office, the smell of marinara sauce wafting after him. “My dad said you were out on a call.”

Derek looked up from the pile of paperwork in front of him and frowned as Stiles propped an ass cheek on the corner of his desk.

“I was. Just got back.”

He gently pushed Stiles off, a hand to the small of Stiles’ back, and readjusted the picture of his sisters on the corner Stiles had knocked crooked. He hated it when people fucked with his desk, and Stiles was the worst about it, stealing his pens when he wasn’t there, rearranging the picture frames into annoying patterns, locking his computer with a different password so Derek would have to text him. Stiles was such a brat, but he had been a station staple since he was a kid, long before Derek arrived. Derek had worked there for five years now, and despite having graduated college Stiles hung around most of the time. He still ruled the roost. The little shit.

“I wish I’d known. I would have brought lunch for you too, but I thought you’d be gone.”

Stiles worried at his bottom lip, eyes wide, like he’d done something wrong. He rocked back on his heels, spinning a pencil between his knobby fingers.

Derek sighed. “It’s nice you brought something for your dad.”

Stiles snorted. “Pasta with vegetables and homemade sauce so he wouldn’t go out and get a cheeseburger from the diner. I don’t know if he views it as nice.”

“He does. You know that.”

Stiles eyes went soft, his lips turning up at the corners in a small grin. “Thanks.”

They stared at each other for a moment and Derek drank in the little details. Stiles looked a little blurred around the edges, weary. His shirt was rumpled, and his eyes were shadowed, like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep. He fidgeted and Derek could see his fingernails were bitten down to the quick, blood pooling in the corners. Derek’s heart lurched.

Stiles made an aborted movement toward Derek, reached his hand out like he wanted to touch. Derek wanted that too, wanted to lean in and wrap his arms around Stiles, let Stiles take comfort in the embrace, but it would be inappropriate at the station. So inappropriate. Stiles was the Sheriff’s son and Derek was a deputy and the Sheriff’s office was right there.

“Son,” the Sheriff said, poking his head out. “I think you’re distracting Deputy Hale.”

Stiles laughed then, loud and startled, and the moment between them broke. “Hint taken,” he said. “See you two later.”

Stiles cast one last lingering look at Derek and then left, waving to a few deputies as he walked out of the door. Derek went back to his paperwork and tried not to think about Stiles’ shaky smile.

-

Derek hated Mrs. Miller’s cat. The cat, Agnes, routinely got stuck in high places, which meant Mrs. Miller routinely called the Sheriff’s department for help. She was an octogenarian and no one had the heart to tell her it wasn’t really the department’s job to rescue her cat. Since no one had the fortitude to tell her no, Derek found himself on a roof or in a tree a few times per month, trying to coax Agnes down with treats.

Today was no exception.

The maple tree was sticky with sap which clung to his uniform. Derek was pretty high off the ground already, and Agnes, a devil in white fur, arched her back and hissed at him from her perch above him. The branches he rested on groaned and Derek seriously worried they weren’t going to hold his weight for much longer.

He held out a handful of treats. “Here, kitty kitty.”

The laughter beneath him was unmistakable, and Derek inwardly groaned. He ignored it though, because Agnes sniffed at his hand, a white paw resting on the heel of his palm. She nosed down to grab a treat and once she had it in her mouth, Derek scruffed her. He pulled her close to his chest and made his way down, Agnes squirming and clawing the entire way.

Once he had two feet on the ground he handed her over to Mrs. Miller, who praised his bravery and offered him cookies. He declined the cookies but accepted the kiss to his cheek.

Stiles stood on the sidewalk next to the cruiser, smiling wide.

“Deputy Hale, you’re a regular hero,” he crowed, once Derek had extracted himself from Mrs. Miller.

Derek shrugged. “Someone has to do it.”

Stiles leaned against the car, hands in his pockets. He thrust his chin at Derek’s arm. “You’re bleeding.”

Derek looked down at the line of scratches on his forearm. They stung and blood beaded up along his torn skin. “They’re okay.”

“I know you have a first aid kit in the cruiser. Do you want me to – ” Stiles gestured to the car.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it. Used to it by now.”

“If you’re sure?”

“Yeah,” Derek watched as Stiles looked down and scuffed his sneaker on the concrete. “So were you just walking by or were you listening to the scanner again?”

Stiles huffed. “Walking,” he said with a vague wave of his hand. “Had to bleed off some energy.”

Derek could see that. The evidence was in the twitches of Stiles’ hands, the way he held his body, like his limbs were barely contained, like he needed to run and run and run.

Derek cleared his throat. “Rough night?”

Stiles ran a trembling hand through his hair and exhaled unevenly. Derek resisted the urge to reach out, curl his fingers around the back of Stiles’ neck and pull him in. He fisted his hands at his side.

“I gotta go,” Stiles said, pushing off from the car. “I forgot I had to do something.”

The lie was obvious, but Derek didn’t say anything. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“Take care of your scratches.”

Derek watched Stiles go, tripping his way down the sidewalk and then across the street. He stood there, sap congealing on his uniform, blood running down his arm, his heart aching.

-

Derek put the key into the lock and let himself into the small apartment. He closed the door softly behind him, not bothering to turn on the light. He was tired. He had worked two doubles in a row, but thankfully had the next few days off for it.

He locked the door, making sure the deadbolt clicked into place, kicked off his shoes, and padded down the hallway to the bedroom. He stripped quickly, tossing his uniform into the floor before crawling into the bed in his undershirt and boxers.

Stiles turned over, eyes half-open in the scant light, rolled up in the blanket like a burrito.

“Hey, Deputy Hale,” he said groggily.

“I’m off duty. It’s just Derek now.”

Stiles smiled lazily. “Hey, Just Derek.”

“Smartass.”

Derek snuggled down into the pillows and blankets, and untangled them. He reached out and pulled Stiles into his arms, wrapping himself around Stiles’ body, the tremors and fidgets of Stiles’ limbs easing as Stiles went lax under Derek’s weight.

“You didn’t have to come over,” Stiles said.

“I wanted to. I missed you.”

Stiles sighed, content.

The thing between them wasn’t new, but it was fragile. Derek hadn’t always wanted Stiles, not when he was an annoying, gangly teenager who was too gregarious for his own good. But even then, he’d been interesting, and somehow they had fallen into a push and pull, a mutual affection. Then Stiles grew up, went away and came back, and Derek had been struck by how much he wanted, how his affection had blossomed into something deeper, something more.

The Sheriff knew, and it wasn’t a problem, though he was protective. Of both of them. He worried Derek would hurt Stiles, which was the obligation of any well-meaning father, but he also worried that Stiles would consume Derek.

Derek understood that too.

“Did you take your meds?” Derek asked. He peered over to the night stand with the pill box. The slot for the evening’s pills was empty.

“Yes.”

“Did you last night?”

There was a pause. Stiles hesitated, and licked his lips. “I was at Scott’s really late, and I was so tired when I got home, I went right to sleep.”

Derek pulled Stiles in closer, if possible, and rested his chin on Stiles’ head. He felt Stiles fingers clench in his shirt.

“I had a rough night and rough morning,” Stiles said softly.

“You should’ve called me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Stiles,” he said on a sigh. “It’s not a bother. I want to be with you, all of you, not only the good parts. I want everything being with you entails. Everything.”

He felt Stiles’ smile against his shoulder. “You’re such a sap,” he said, but it held notes of tenderness and awe and relief. “You also smell like sap. Like maple sap. I can’t believe they make you climb trees to get cats down by the way.”

Derek chuckled. “Parrish is afraid of heights and I’m not going to let your dad do it. It’s fine.”

“Are you staying?”

“If it’s okay with you? I have tomorrow and Saturday off. We could make the most of it.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “Definitely.” He yawned. “Sleep first though. Then sex. Then pancakes.”

“Sounds good.”

They maneuvered in the bed so Stiles’ head rested on his pillow and Derek was curled around him. Stiles fell asleep quickly, his breath evening out, and Derek hoped there wouldn’t be any sleep interruptions for Stiles’ sake. Derek kissed the nape of Stiles’ neck, closed his eyes, tucked his knees right behind the bend in Stiles’ legs and fell asleep.


End file.
